


Traditions

by AI07



Series: Company of Outlaws, Family of In-laws [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, And Six Days After Christmas, And Sneaky, And Tooth-Rotting Sweetness, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Eggnog, F/M, Family Feels, Gandalf is a Troll, Humour, Iglishmêk, Khuzdul, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Might Just Become An Annual Thing, Mistletoe, Or Gingerbread Dwarves, Romance, So Sweet You'll Need A Pair Of Dentures, So sue me, Stockings, The Big Damn Christmas Fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Traditions, Unamused Bilbo, Undercover Flirting, Unofficial Sequel to "Matchmaker" If You Squint, Unwrapping Gifts, Wrapping Presents, Yuletide, gingerbread men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AI07/pseuds/AI07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuletide is a time of celebration, and, of course, spending time with close friends and family.</p><p>It is also a time of practising many traditions, such as baking gingerbread men, decorating the tree and kissing under the mistletoe, to name a few.</p><p>For Bilbo Baggins and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, their first Yuletide celebration together in Erebor will be one that they will cherish and will never forget (or rather, Gandalf will never let them forget, because they certainly will not remember much after all the eggnog that they drank).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I have decided to upload a Christmas story SIX days after Christmas ... oh well. XD I blame Bofur1 and her amazing story, "You're All I Want for Mahalmerag" for inspiring me to write this. Go check it out! :D
> 
> Also written partly as a Christmas present to everyone as thanks for the amazing year I've had on AO3. Consider it as "Matchmaker"'s unofficial sequel, if you will. ;)
> 
> Khuzdûl and Iglishmêk are written in italics. Enjoy! :)

**Wrapping Presents**

"Ah, at last, I'm _finally_ finished!"

Finding appropriate gifts for his Dwarvish companions and his Hobbit friend was an exceptionally difficult task, considering their differing personalities and, in both Glóin and Bombur's cases, the amount of extended family involved, but to wrap all the gifts proved arduous for someone like Gandalf.

Still, as the Wizard gazed upon 30 perfectly and individually wrapped parcels that lay before him – 13 red ones for Thorin Oakenshield and Company, 12 silver ones for Bombur's little ones, two gold ones for Glóin and Bombur's wives, one white for Gimli, one blue for Dís and one dark-green for Bilbo Baggins – he thought he did a fine job.

_And now that I think about it, I do believe I made some fine choices in choosing their gifts._

Alright, maybe it wasn't _that_ difficult to choose their presents – it was more the fact that Gandalf, in all his wisdom, left the Yuletide present-buying to the last minute.

_I swear on my life, I never felt so exhausted after that, running around here, there and everywhere looking for suitable gifts! I damn well nearly polished off the second bottle of wine to calm my nerves._

But the more he thought about it, he found it was easy to buy for Bombur's lot. Each of them was getting a soft toy: cute, fuzzy black bears which reminded Gandalf very much of Beorn ( _not that_ I _would tell_ _ **Beorn**_ _that, no_ ). They even had a special mechanism built within in them so that, when their bellies were pressed, they emitted life-like roars ( _those will certainly make their father run_ ).

For their mother, Gandalf had purchased a pair of white slipper boots lined with fleece ( _the poor lady is always on her feet_ ). For Bombur himself, Gandalf had bought him a box containing a vast array of stainless steel cutlery ( _for all the meals he will now get to eat_ ).

For Ori, he was to get a new quill pen made from a moulted feather of a raven, and a leather-bound journal ( _the lad goes through those books so fast_ ). A brand-new drinking mug made of steel and decorated with oak wood was set aside for Dwalin ( _he goes through his ale a lot faster_ ), whilst Balin had a magnifying glass framed in black wrapped up nicely for him. Dori had lost his hairbrush during the quest, so Gandalf thought that a bone-handle hairbrush with a fluorite gemstone inlaid in the handle would be in order ( _fluorite is a powerful protection gemstone for during times of transition, so I'm sure it will help Dori greatly when he has a bad hair day!_ ).

Glóin was getting an oilskin leather pouch made especially to protect his physical assets ( _otherwise known as his money_ ), and Gandalf got his wife a decadent jewellery-box gilded with gold. As for shaggy-haired Gimli, he was forever losing his hair-clips, as Gandalf had been told many a time by his father, so the Wizard thought it best to invest in silver hair-clips designed with the family sigil ( _so if he should ever lose them, they know who to return them to_ ).

Finding a present for toy-making Bifur, the Wizard found, was quite easy: a knife with a birch handle and a long blade fashioned specifically for carving wood seemed to be appropriate enough. For Óin, a pair of woolly grey mittens with downy filling was enclosed in his gift-box along with two knitting needles and a ball of yellow wool ( _if his growing stomach is anything to go by, I'm sure we'll hear the sound of little woolly-booted feet running around soon)._

Bofur was getting a tobacco-pouch to replace the one he lost in Mirkwood ( _good grief, all that tobacco gone to waste!_ ), and Nori was sure to be chuffed when he saw the bejewelled dagger, which was made entirely of silver and surmounted by a band of diamonds with gold borders ( _though where_ I _acquired this dagger from, neither Nori nor Thorin need to know_ ).

A pair of sapphire earrings set on white-gold metal was the least Gandalf could acquire for Lady Dís, but for her sons … well, the Wizard was sure that the briar-wood and ebony tobacco pipes designed in the shape of eagles' claws with the emblem of Durin inlaid on the chambers would go down well with them, but the firecrackers hidden at the bottom of the boxes would surely invoke a none-too-kindly word from Dís and arouse Fíli and Kíli's sense of mischief.

_Ach, it's Yuletide. Not everything has to be bloody formal all the time. Anyway, I can trust those two boys to handle firecrackers. If anything, I'll be on my merry way before they can create some damage._

Finally, Gandalf's eyes fell on the remaining red and green presents that stood next to each other on the table, and he smiled to himself.

_I can't wait to see their faces when Thorin and Bilbo open those presents._

_They're going to_ kill _me, I know they will._

… _but ultimately, I hope they like the gifts, too._

_We'll see how we go._

Chuckling to himself, Gandalf scooped up the 30 packages and packed them into a large burlap sack. Then, he sat himself down in a recliner with a pipe in hand. He needed the rest after wrapping all those presents; he had informed Thorin beforehand that he would pass by later on in the evening.

_Just in time for eggnog._

_For now, let me have a few hours to myself. Thank goodness Yule only comes once a year, otherwise I'd never get a break from wrapping!_

_I'll leave that sort of thing for the Elves._

* * *

**Decorating the Yule Tree**

"Careful, Kíli. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I know what I'm doing, brother dearest. Besides, who's the taller one here?"

"And who's got more facial hair than you?"

Kíli looked down to roll his eyes at his brother, though he could not keep his lips from curling into a smile.

"That's right charming," he snarked good-humouredly. "If one's maturity was based on the amount of facial hair they have, then I dare say that you're wearing a false beard."

Fíli snorted.

"Just watch what you're doing," he said in a more serious tone. "If you fall, you can't blame me."

"Pity. That was my intention all along."

"Just pin the damn star on the tree, Kíli, and watch your step when you get down off the ladder."

"What's this, fighting whilst decorating the Yule tree?" came the dulcet tone of a female voice.

A second or so later, a dark-haired Dwarf woman in a sapphire-blue gown that matched her eyes appeared beside Fíli. She directed her gaze between the golden-haired prince and his younger sibling, who stood on the tips of his toes on the topmost step of a wooden ladder. The ladder itself was pushed right next to a tall evergreen tree, whose boughs were decorated with garlands of flowers and bejewelled ornaments – rubies, diamonds and emeralds set in mithril, gold and sterling were among the dominant decorations that adorned the long branches.

In Kíli's hand was a most exquisite Yuletide ornament, a snowflake-type star with six crystal points set against silver-toned metal. The crystal and metal caught the light of the torches that illuminated the hall, glimmering ever so brightly. Why, it shone so bright, one would believe that it could give the Arkenstone a run for its money.

Fíli sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're not fighting, _Amad_. We've finished decorating the tree now. Kíli's pinning the star on top of the tree, is all, and I'm supervising."

"And what a fine job you're doing," Kíli retorted, grinning at his own joke.

The grin all but disappeared when the ladder suddenly shook beneath him, making him lose his footing. He caught himself just in time, and his face turned a dark shade of red when his brother and his mother shook their heads at him.

"Well, do hurry up, boys, you're keeping your uncle waiting," replied Dís sternly. "Everyone will be arriving soon. Besides that, you'll gather dust and ruin your clothing if you continue at this rate, and I don't want someone complaining to me that the Crown Princes of Erebor didn't look a darn bit presentable for our first Yuletide celebrations in years at the Lonely Mountain."

"If Kíli was a bit more graceful, we'd have been done already," said Fíli with a smirk.

"If I fall, I hope that I land on you," his dark-haired brother said with yet another roll of his eyes.

Adjusting his footing, Kíli was once again standing on the tips of his toes. Leaning forward, he slowly extended his arm, biting his bottom lip with concentration as he reached towards the top of the tree with the star in his hand. The younger prince was well aware of the scrutinising gazes of both his mother and his brother.

" _Please_ be careful, _nûlukh furkhuhaz_ ," Dís murmured, concern clouding up in her blue orbs. "That star was a gift from our cousin, Dáin Ironfoot."

Although inwardly, she could not give a damn if that star, beautiful though it was, broke into pieces. It was her second-born son, teetering on the ladder, that worried her at that moment in time. However, Dís knew that Kíli would not be pleased if she voiced her concern about his safety: he would try to argue with her, complain about her nagging him, and right now she wanted him to concentrate on his present task rather than give her any lip.

"Almost there," Kíli muttered under his breath, leaning ever more forward. The end of a branch pushed against his midriff, causing the tree to shake …

Fíli watched silently, also biting his bottom lip in apprehension. He said nary a word when he felt his mother's arm link with his own.

"Just … about … got it," his younger brother mumbled now, his arm aching as his hand inched forward to the tree's pointed top.

The decorations on the boughs jingled from his weight pressed against the evergreen tree …

" _Whew_ , I did it!" Kíli cried in triumph, standing flat on the ladder's step with a wide smile.

Indeed, the star was perched at a straight angle on top of the tree, reflecting a bedazzling light. Rays of colour emanated from the crystal and metal onto surfaces of the walls and the floor.

Dís and Fíli both breathed sighs of relief.

"Nice one, Kíli," the golden-haired prince said, smiling at his sibling in ease.

"Very good, my son," the dark-haired Dwarrowdam said, wrapping her arm around Fíli's shoulder. "Now could you kindly get off of that ladder, please? I can't stand to see you up there for another second."

Kíli complied, practically jumping off the ladder ("Watch it!" Fíli hissed) and straight into his mother's one-armed embrace. Dís hugged her sons close, savouring the warmth and smiling to herself as they snuggled up against her. They used to constantly snuggle up against her when they were beardlings, and on the eve of Yuletide they would creep into her bed and nestle beside her in anticipation of Yule morning and the gifts that filled up their stockings; ever since they returned from their quest and reclaimed their homeland, she never wasted an opportunity to hold either of them close. Yes, they were older now, and (perhaps) a degree wiser, but young or old, Fíli and Kíli would always remain Dís' babies.

They stood like that for a few seconds before Dís pressed a kiss on top of their heads – golden-blonde and dark-brown, respectively – and pulled back. Her sapphire-blue eyes shimmered like two bright stars – even brighter than the star that adorned the Yule tree.

" _Mim kidhuzur upndar_ … _nûlukh furkhuhaz_ ," she murmured softly and affectionately, gazing lovingly at her sons, so handsome and dignified and … _grown-up_. "Merry Yuletide."

"And merry Yuletide to you too, _Amad_ ," Fíli and Kíli chorused, pecking her cheeks.

"And well done for decorating the tree nicely," Dís added, glancing at the bedecked evergreen tree proudly. "It's lovely to see you two doing something practical together, and having fun doing it."

"Does that mean we get extra-nice presents?" asked Kíli hopefully.

Dís laughed, playfully swatting her second-born's head. "You'll just have to wait and see," she said in a teasing manner.

Suddenly, a cacophony of noises issued forth from down the hall. Laughter and exclamations and squeals of children and adults alike echoed, making the Yule tree shake again.

Smiling widely, Dís looked at Fíli and Kíli.

"Looks like our guests have arrived," she said.

* * *

**Gingerbread Men**

Ori loved to bake ever since he was a Dwarfling.

In his youth, when he was not poring over books, writing and sketching away in his various notebooks or getting up to mischief with Fíli, Kíli and Gimli, the youngest Ri was in the kitchen, watching Dori bake a variety of sweet treats (and Nori swipe some off the tray for himself and Ori when their older brother was not looking). Cakes, tartlets, cookies … Ori learnt how to do it all, whilst Dori assisted him at all times, despite the fact that the scribe was quite capable working on his own, thank you very much.

However, because money was sometimes a problem, and because Dori was too tired from both working and trying to keep Nori out of trouble, baking was a rare occurrence in the Ri household. If anything, baking only ever took place during special occasions, such as birthdays and Yuletide. Ori always looked forward to the evening before Yuletide, when he and Dori would prepare the desserts – Nori would be out somewhere doing last-minute "gift-shopping" (read: possibly stealing – no one could ever prove it).

Delicious aromas of the various cake mixtures wafted throughout the house, and Ori went to bed with his and Nori's room which smelt strongly of vanilla, strawberry and chocolate. The scribe tittered to himself thinking that the air was so thick with flavour that you could cut it with a knife and eat it.

Now Yuletide had come upon Middle Earth once again, and this year, with Dori being preoccupied with Balin, Ori was on his own in terms of baking. It was certainly an exciting thought, because now he could make whatever he liked without supervision. Besides that, he had more people to prepare goodies for.

Lastly, Ori had something special for his One …

~*~*~*

"Good evening, Ori and Dwalin. Merry Yuletide to the both of you!"

"Same to you, Bilbo," replied Ori, dipping his head in greeting towards the Hobbit. His hands held on tightly to the tray that was covered with a red cloth trimmed with gold.

Likewise, Dwalin also held a tray covered with a green cloth trimmed with silver, and he greeted Bilbo in a similar fashion.

"Looks like we all came just in time," he said, gesturing with his head towards the other Dwarves.

Indeed, there was Balin and Dori with their bowls of eggnog and greeting Thorin and Dís. Glóin and his wife, Nidhi, fell into conversation with Bombur and his wife, Grete, whilst young Gimli was currently being teased mercilessly by both Fíli and Kíli for his combed hair and clean, pressed clothing. Instead of helping his nephew, Óin chortled at his expense; he leant on his staff, laying a hand on his swollen stomach as he laughed softly. Bifur was talking to Bombur's eldest child, Bala, in a most conspiratorial manner, slipping something that she passed to him into his pocket.

Meanwhile, Bofur chuckled merrily when the rest of his brother's brood bombarded a _very_ flustered Nori. Ori tried (and failed) to stifle a giggle as eleven tykes grabbed at his brother, jabbering at length and pulling on his hair all the while (Nori had _actually_ let his auburn mane loose, with braids interwoven here and there). Even Dwalin let loose a loud guffaw, earning himself a glare from the thief.

"Help me," Nori mouthed, looking pleadingly at Ori.

Luckily for him, Ori's compassionate nature took over. Very loudly, he addressed Bilbo, saying:

"I baked some treats for after supper."

That did the trick. Immediately, Bombur's children abandoned a relieved Nori, rushed towards the scribe and Dwalin – forcing the two Dwarves to take a few steps back – and exclaimed excitedly, "What is it, what is it? Can we have a look? Whatever it is, can we eat it now, _pleeeeeease_?"

"Yes, what did you make?" queried Bilbo.

Dori also looked questioningly at his brother, his eyes quickly scanning the younger Dwarf's hands for any sign of burn marks or cuts.

Ori smiled. "I made gingerbread men," he replied. "And it was my first time making it, too, though I do believe they came out alright," he added, sounding incredibly chuffed.

"Aye, I'm sure they did," said Dwalin, giving him a warm look. "You worked all night on them, and they look delicious."

His One blushed.

"If you're thinking that will make me give you a gingerbread man, think again," he said, gently pushing his shoulder against the bald warrior Dwarf's arm. "I made it especially for the kids, including Gimli."

Everyone roared at Gimli's reddening face after Ori uttered that remark.

"I'm not allowed to say bad things on Yuletide," he muttered, trying to hide his blush in his fiery beard. "But come tomorrow, you better watch out, Ori …"

"Come, come, let's not stand around out here any longer," declared Thorin, smiling a rare smile at his companions. "The feast awaits us as we speak. Let us all proceed to the dining-room. Gandalf shall join us later on. Follow me."

With that, he turned on his heels and walked away, with everyone, save Ori and Dwalin, following suit. The scribe and the bald warrior Dwarf were directed to the kitchen, where they placed their trays beside the other desserts laying on the table.

After putting down their trays, Dwalin stood up straight, a disappointed expression on his face.

"'Tis a shame that the gingerbread men are for the bairns," he said glumly. "I was rather lookin' forward to tastin' your dessert. You really _did_ work hard on 'em, and they look so appetisin', sittin' on these trays. I wish I could have taken one last night."

Ori offered Dwalin a smile.

"Did you think that I had forgotten you?" he asked slyly.

The tall Dwarf raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean by that, Ori?"

The scribe did not answer him. Instead, he reached into his satchel that he had been wearing and pulled out a tall green tin. Wordlessly, he took off the lid and beckoned his One to come closer.

Raising his other eyebrow, Dwalin slowly and cautiously moved closer, peered inside the tin at Ori's behest and –

"By _Mahal_ …" Dwalin breathed, his eyes widening in surprise and happiness.

Staring up at him was a large gingerbread man – it was larger than the ones on the trays, and it also had a different appearance. Whilst the other gingerbread men had only simple eyes, mouths, icing buttons and neckerchiefs in all sorts of colours piped on them, _this_ one's chest was covered in green icing, and its broad shoulders were padded out with chocolate icing. A similar chocolate band adorned its gingery waist, and light-brown icing caked its legs from the knees down. Two silvery sprinkles made to look like knuckle-dusters dotted each of its hands, and its smiling face was home to a brown beard and hair made up of brown sprinkles, save for the bald patch on the top of its head (on which patterns were drawn in edible ink).

Dwalin looked up at Ori, smiling for Middle earth. His heart was heavy with emotion.

"It's _me_ ," he spluttered, unable to believe it. "It's a gingerbread man that looks like _me_!"

Ori chuckled, his cheeks flushing faintly.

"I'd like to think of it as a gingerbread _Dwarf_ ," he said, smiling down at the confectionery. "I suppose it isn't bad-looking …"

He looked up at Dwalin, the flush darkening.

"… but it doesn't come _close_ to the real thing."

The tall Dwarf grinned in delight. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Ori's ever so gently. The younger Dwarf smiled, feeling an electric current run through his body as he lost himself in the warmth of his One's mouth – for how long the sensation lasted, he could not recollect, but it felt endless.

And yet, as quickly as it came, the kiss was over. The Dwarves pulled back, their cheeks flushed and their eyes sparkling with passion.

" _Zu kiduzhu_ , Ori," Dwalin murmured, stroking Ori's cheek with a calloused thumb. He looked back down at his gingerbread counterpart with a chuckle. "And so is this gingerbread Dwarf. _Too_ cute, if I do say so myself. I'm almost too afraid to eat up your handiwork!"

Ori shrugged good-naturedly. "If that's the case, I made an alternative treat for you. If there's one thing that Dori stressed about baking, it's always have a back-up plan, _especially_ at a Yuletide feast."

"Oh?" said Dwalin, his eyebrows furrowing in curiosity. "And what is this back-up plan of yours?"

Ori grinned, shaking the tin.

"Look inside," he ordered the older Dwarf.

Without further ado, Dwalin heeded Ori's words and peered inside the tin again …

When he looked back up, a loving smile had graced his lips.

Underneath the gingerbread Dwarf was a tall pile of Dwalin's favourite chocolate-mint cookies.

* * *

**Yule Stockings**

_Good grief, I fink I just ate a year's worth of food in a single sittin'!_

After a most sumptuous Yuletide feast, Thorin, Bilbo and the Dwarves retired to one of the Dwarf king's private chambers. A warm fire greeted them, crackling and burning away in the fireplace, and the settees simply looked inviting, crying out to be sat on.

Like Nori would _ever_ miss an opportunity such as that.

Immediately he plonked himself down on the nearest settee, sighing appreciatively as he lay back against the pillows. He ran a hand through his auburn locks, lightly massaging his scalp, and he emitted yet another appreciative sigh as he accepted a goblet of mulled wine from Dori, taking a large gulp of the cup's contents.

Similarly, Thorin lay back against the couch beside his, sitting next to Bilbo and Dís, both of whom wallowed in the comfortable softness of the couch cushions and rubbing their full, aching bellies. They also accepted glasses of mulled wine from Balin and Dori, and they groaned when they saw Fíli, Kíli, Gimli and Dwalin nibbling on tartlets (or cookies, in Dwalin's case) that they had swiped from the dining-table. Nori could not hide his laugh when Dis, Glóin, Nidhi and Ori began to reprimand them, spouting a lot of nonsense about stomach-aches and that they should feel ashamed for forcing themselves to continue eating, and so forth.

 _At least it's not_ me _'oo's coppin' a lecture this time 'round!_

Balin and Dori, who had joined Bifur and Óin on another settee, merely rolled their eyes at their families' antics. Whilst his brother and his One sipped on their wine, Nori watched as Bifur slipped Óin an apple to eat, which confused the thief greatly: the healer _hated_ apples with a passion.

There was a saying of Men that suddenly came to mind: "An apple a day keeps the doctor away". In a way, this was true through a whole new meaning of the phrase, in that Óin avoided apples at every opportunity. And yet there he was, casually chomping on an apple as if it were a slab of chocolate.

_I just can't figure 'im out, Óin and 'is mood-swings. 'E's been actin' righ' strange and all fer the last three months!_

Still, Nori could not help but feel a bit envious of him, sitting close to Bifur quite comfortably with his mitten-covered hand on the axe-embedded Dwarf's knee. When Dwalin took his place beside him, Ori cuddled up to him like a lost puppy, and even Balin and Dori, and Glóin and Nidhi, were cosying up together. At that moment, Nori wanted an arm wrapped around his shoulders, to lay his head against a certain behatted Dwarf's warm chest and have his hair stroked, all the while listening to the soft humming of his One …

Unfortunately for the middle Ri, Bombur's brood had other plans for Bofur.

A day prior, Thorin had 30 red Yule stockings, 12 of which were marked with Bombur's children's names, pinned onto the mantelpiece of the fireplace. One by one, each member of the Company had contributed small toys and pieces of candy to fill up the stockings, as well as personal gifts for their Ones.

For Nori, it all seemed very odd. When he was a young lad growing up in the Ri household, he never received any gifts in stockings – in fact, the stockings he and his brothers had were nothing more than plain woolly socks hung for show! Of course, they had the baking, but those were occasions that were far and few between as is, and it left Nori feeling wholly unsatisfied. It made the auburn-haired Dwarf feel somewhat jealous of the other kiddies in the neighbourhood who came from richer families, who had better stockings and were keen to show off their stocking fillers.

Nori could recall one Yuletide many years ago when he stole a spinning-top from a nasty show-off of a beardling, placed it in his sock and claimed without shame that Mahal put it there after Dori demanded to know where he got the small novelty from.

 _If that git_ (the "git" in question being the aforementioned beardling) _'adn't grassed on me, I would 'ave gotten away wiv it!_

Now that he was much older, Nori had no need for small things, save the occasional coin from Glóin's purse or a stray hair-clip ( _compliments of Gimli_ ) or little gemstones; instead, he had his eyes set on bigger things that were begging to be pinched.

_And it takes a whole lot o' energy to pinch Bofur's fat arse on a daily basis._

Up went the stockings, and Nori could tell that Bofur was excited about the whole affair. His One, too, also grew up without receiving gifts in stockings. Or rather, Bofur had no stockings to hang up for Yuletide in the first place! The Broadbeams were a much poorer family in comparison, and, for them, the mere fact that they had a roof over their heads and a meagre yet steady income generated from mining work and selling Bifur's toys that could just about provide them all with food and clothes was but a gift.

Therefore, it was agreed that Bombur's children be the first to check their stockings before the adults could – to be receiving gifts in Yule stockings for the first time was bound to be an exciting new experience for them. Also, Thorin stressed that they ought to get the excitement out of their systems before any further chaos could be caused.

 _Really, Thorin? This is Bombur's_ _**children** _ _that we're goin' on about, the same bleedin wee divvys 'oo practically scalped me!_

The moment they entered the room, upon seeing the stockings, the Broadbeam bunch bounded forward, pulling Bombur and Grete and screaming excitedly at the prospect of gifts. Right now, they were on the floor, chatting loudly and squealing as they emptied out their stockings. After zealously requesting his help, Bofur sat with his brother and his sister-in-law, helping his nieces and nephews scoop out their stocking fillers. He "oohed" and "aahed" as each Dwarfling enthusiastically showed him what they got from everyone, and his smiling face was smothered with kisses when they came upon his gifts: small wooden flutes painted in different shades of yellow – from mustard and chartreuse to saffron and amber – and decorated with etchings of baby animals such as rabbits, ducklings and lambs.

"Thank ye, Uncle Bof!" they chorused, hugging and kissing him.

"My pleasure, sweetlings," Bofur replied, ruffling their hair and smiling that dimpled smile that Nori loved so much.

Just then, Bala gave a delighted cry. The eyes of Nori and everyone else fell on her.

"What is it, honey-bee?" Bombur asked his eldest child.

Bala beamed at him. "Look what I got in my stocking, _Adad_!" she exclaimed, holding up her hand for all to see.

In her hand was a minted mithril coin, which shone brightly in the light of the fire. It bore the engraving of a raven, and Khuzdûl letters bordered its silver rim.

"My, what a pretty coin ye have there, honey-bee!" cried Grete, marvelling at the intricate beauty of the coin.

"I've got one, too!" declared Grettir, the young beardling holding up a minted mithril coin of his own.

"Same here!"

"Me, too!"

The rest of the children also each had a coin in their possession. Bilbo gazed at them from his spot on the couch, looking particularly impressed.

"They're stunning," he said, admiring the metalwork. "Who gave them to you, I wonder?"

"How much you want to bet that it was Nori?" whispered Fíli to Kíli.

Glóin, who overheard the golden-haired prince, snorted. " _Nori_? Givin' away _coins_? He would _never_ let go of those things!"

"I was just about t'say the same fing' t'you, Glóin," the thief retorted, earning himself cackles from his companions and a huffy "Hmph!" from Glóin. "But yes, _I_ stuck those coins in the stockings."

For a moment, Bofur looked ready to take Nori into his arms and plant a big kiss on his mouth. Instead, with shining eyes, he turned to his nieces and nephews, saying:

"Now wasn't that nice of Uncle Nori, hmm? Everyone say "Thank ye, Uncle Nori", if ye please."

"Thank ye, Uncle Nori!" the bairns chorused, blowing kisses at the auburn-haired Dwarf, who dipped his head in acknowledgement yet could not keep his lips from curling into a bashful smile.

"Cheers," he mumbled.

The Broadbeam children gabbled happily, all showing off their mithril coins to their parents, their hat-wearing uncle and their friends. Bofur chuckled at their exuberance, turning his beaming gaze onto his One, who still looked bashful. Without warning, he reached out from the floor, took hold of Nori's wrists and pulled the protesting Dwarf down from off the settee. His protests immediately came to an end when Bofur's lips made contact with his mouth.

"Those _are_ pretty coins," murmured Bofur after pulling back, running a hand through his One's long hair, "and it was jolly nice of ye to put 'em in the wee ones' stockings."

Nori shrugged, laying his head against Bofur's chest. "I 'ad a lot of 'em lyin' 'round. 1/14th share of the treasure is a bit, believe you me."

"Well, ye certainly made 'em happy," replied his One, pecking the thief's forehead.

He lowered his voice."Bombur's lot hardly ever get any presents on Yuletide. They barely got anythin' like coins before, either. It means a lot to them, ye know – to _me_ , too. I know my nieces an' nephews can act like little terrors, but it means so much to me to see ye gettin' on with my family."

Nori looked up at Bofur with half-lidded eyes, gently tugging a braid.

"They're _my_ family, too, you twonk," he murmured softly.

Bofur's heart welled with happiness as that statement sunk in. He had half a mind to push the auburn-haired Dwarf to the floor and smother him with kisses until he cried for mercy, but because there were children present, he settled for pushing their foreheads together.

"Shall we check our stockings?" he asked, pulling back slightly.

Nori nodded. "We can do that," he answered.

"Just promise me," said Bofur, getting up and pulling his One to his feet, "that whatever ye got me, it was legitimately purchased an' _not_ "permanently borrowed"."

The thief laughed. "Leave it out, Bofur. I'm takin' a break from that this festive season."

The hat-wearing Dwarf guffawed before hugging the other Dwarf close.

"I love ye, Nori," he whispered in his One's ear.

Nori grinned, allowing himself to be pulled by Bofur towards their stockings. As far as he was concerned, hearing the Dwarf say that he loved him was the best gift he had ever gotten for Yule, and no stocking on Middle Earth could contain the amount of love that Nori held for Bofur in return.

* * *

**Kissing Under the Mistletoe**

Óin breathed a sigh of relief the moment he walked out of Thorin's chambers. He inhaled deeply, much-desired fresh air filling his frame.

" _Better?_ " Bifur signed in Iglishmêk, linking their arms together.

"Aye, _much_ better," replied Óin with a small smile, patting the axe-embedded Dwarf's hand reassuringly. "It was awfully stuffy in there, what with that fire burnin' and everyone cramped together. And I thought I'd _never_ get off that couch – all that food gave me a stomach-ache!"

Bifur chortled lightly, leading the healer away from the cacophonous room. " _Shame, you poor thing. After all, you're eating for two now._ "

It was his One's turn to chortle.

"That's a myth," he said, squeezing Bifur's hand. "It's the quality of the food that's important, not the quantity. Besides, I dare say that my sudden cravin' for apples, of all the bloody things in the world, has taken over my preference for alcohol and – _ow_."

"" _Ow?_ "" signed Bifur, raising a bemused eyebrow.

Óin offered the other Dwarf a sheepish smile. "I felt a kick," he murmured, clutching his swollen stomach.

The axe-embedded Dwarf's eyes brightened. He laid his hand over Óin's belly, a smile forming on his lips as he felt a kick coming through. " _Perhaps she's happy to hear the sound of your voice_ ," he signed with his other hand.

"Or maybe _he's_ just tellin' me to stop spoutin' medical nonsense," retorted his One good-humouredly. "And I bet _his_ father's thinkin' the same."

" _I have other things on my mind_ ," signed Bifur coyly, gently pulling Óin along by the arm. " _To keep_ _ **her**_ _papa relaxed, for one thing._ "

"May I ask where you're takin' me?" inquired the healer, his curiosity aroused.

He cast a glance behind him before addressing the toy-making Dwarf again. "We're movin' quite a distance away from the others."

" _You'll see when we get there_ ," his One signed in reply, trying his best to look nonchalant, although the corners of his mouth were in the process of curling upwards.

Óin let it go at that. He praised Mahal for blessing him with someone so loving, caring and damned patient as Bifur. The last three months had been hectic, what with the last touches of restoration with regards to the re-establishment of Erebor, the arrival of the Yuletide season and, importantly, the excitement, preparation and dread that came with the process of expecting a baby …

The healer was used to spending Yule together with his brother, his sister-in-law and his nephew, and the idea of now spending it with them and Bifur was an exhilarating one. But what Óin did not expect about their first Yule together was the fact that an unexpected third party had, unbeknownst to everyone else, joined them, and he (Óin preferred to refer to it as a "he") was right under their very noses, making the healer feel nervous and altogether moody.

As one who had medical experience, Óin took every precaution to make the pregnancy a safe one, from adjusting his diet to suit the baby's nutritional needs, to making sure he got rest regularly in order to avoid unnecessary mental and physical stress.

But as a Dwarf and a first-time parent, Óin understood that there were risks, ones which could hamper the gestation period or the delivery itself – Dwarf children were precious things, but bringing them into the world was almost a life-threatening process. These types of thoughts concerning these risks, along with the symptoms of pregnancy – from nausea to cramps – and the changes in his body that included a craving for apples (which he _absolutely_ hated), nearly spun Óin into a fit of despair.

_But thank Mahal for Bifur._

Bifur had become Óin's rock, so to speak. Whenever the healer needed to vent his frustrations, when he wanted someone to cuddle up to or when he even needed a shoulder to cry on, the axe-embedded Dwarf was there, tolerating his One's mood-swings all the while. He would make themselves herbal teas, sort out dinner preparations and fluff his pillows among other things (he even did all the Yule shopping!), and for that, Óin was truly grateful. He knew that Bifur was thrilled at the prospect of becoming a father – if painting the baby's room yellow and designing baby-safe toys were of any indication – and he was doing all he could to make Óin comfortable, especially in the bedroom –

" _Óin?_ "

Coming to an abrupt stop and hearing Bifur say his name jolted Óin from his thoughts. He looked at his One, who stared at him with concern in his eyes.

" _Are you alright?_ " the axe-embedded Dwarf signed.

"Aye, I'm fine, Bifur," Óin replied. He looked around: the two Dwarves were standing under a stone archway in a secluded passageway. If one was really quiet, one could hear the faint noise emanating from the chambers from which they had come. "What are we doin' here?"

Here, Bifur smiled. His half-lidded dark eyes, which the healer found quite attractive (then again, his eyes were the first things that attracted him in the first place), shimmered like gemstones. Raising his hands, he signed:

" _Look up._ "

His curiosity aroused once more, Óin did as he was told, and –

"Is that … _mistletoe_?"

Indeed, a sprig of mistletoe hung from a red velvet ribbon at the top of the archway. Trimmed with evergreens, purple ribbons with gemstone-type clasps tied on the leaves and sticky berries, the mistletoe swung ever so slightly from side to side over the Dwarves' heads.

Bifur smiled a devilish smile. " _Correct._ "

"Mistletoe …" Óin murmured, recalling information that he read in a medical textbook. "A parasitic plant … I wouldn't chance eatin' the berries, because they're poisonous, and – _oh_."

Bifur almost laughed aloud when the realisation dawned on Óin. The healer's eyes widened; he looked at the axe-embedded Dwarf, then up at the mistletoe, and then back down at Bifur, his cheeks blushing pink out of embarrassment for going off on a medical tangent once more.

"Oh," he said again.

His One's devilish smile widened. He stepped forward, his eyes burning with unmistakeable desire.

" _You know what they say about mistletoe_ ," he signed slowly.

"Don't I know it," the other Dwarf muttered, the blush worsening. " _Amad_ and _Adad_ hung those things in the house whenever we had visitors over for Yule. Glóin and I never liked to kiss the old aunties and uncles in greetin', so when they caught us under the mistletoe, we couldn't refuse a kiss at all."

Bifur chuckled, wrapping his arms around Óin's waist and pulling him closer. " _I had this specially-made and smuggled in by Bala, so that if we ever had the opportunity to be alone together …_ "

"... you'd take full advantage of it," finished the healer with a snort, resting their foreheads together. "I _thought_ I saw you sneak out earlier! Well, you certainly took a chance, given that there's children runnin' about."

" _Not out here, they aren't_ ," said Bifur in Khuzdûl, loud enough for his partially-deaf One to hear. The husky rumble of his voice sent shivers running down Óin's spine.

"That's no way to talk in front of your unborn child," he mock-chided him, placing his arms around Bifur's neck. "What would he think, I wonder?"

" _She'll think that her father is being rude for making her papa wait for his kiss_ ," came the saucy reply.

"You and this girl business," Óin grumbled in good humour.

He twirled a black braid around his finger. "And given that this mistletoe is of Broadbeam make, how long will this kiss last?"

" _For as long as we stand under it_ ," answered Bifur in a whisper before pushing the healer's chin upwards. Tilting his head, his lips latched onto the other Dwarf's.

"Mmm." Bifur's lips were soft and gentle, and the mere feeling of his warm mouth brushing against his made Óin's heart beat so loud to the point that he could not believe he was deaf. He moaned softly as the axe-embedded Dwarf's hands began to rub his back, his deft fingers running along his shoulder-blades. The healer's own grip around Bifur's neck tightened, and he ran his hands through his black locks, urgently wanting more. Yet another moan escaped as Bifur complied, gently prying open his One's mouth with his tongue –

" _Uncle Óin! Uncle Bifur!_ "

Bifur and Óin pulled apart, breathing heavily and flushing hard.

"If that's my bloody nephew callin' …" gasped Óin, unable to finish his threat.

"Uncle Óin! Uncle Bifur! Where are you?"

" _I do believe it_ _ **is**_ ," signed Bifur, extricating himself from his One's grip and loosening his arms from around his waist.

"Trust him to ruin a romantic moment," the healer groaned, face-palming.

A second or two later, a figure with shaggy, loose red hair and a decent-looking beard appeared in the passageway a few metres away from the older Dwarves.

"I found you!" Gimli exclaimed in triumph, walking towards them. " _Adad_ sent me to look for you. Says it's time for eggnog."

"Is that all?" Óin said, raising his eyebrows in irritation.

"Aye, that's all, Uncle," his nephew replied. " _Adad_ told me to tell you to hurry it up 'cause we're all waitin' on you."

Before his grey-haired uncle could say an angry word to his brother-son, Bifur answered, signing, " _Fine, Gimli. We'll be there in five minutes._ "

"Alright, Uncle Bifur" said Gimli with a nod, "though I dare say that you two should drink some water instead. You both look hot and bothered! Were you runnin' or something?"

" _Something like that, lad. Now run along. Five minutes, alright?_ "

On that note, Gimli walked back towards the chambers, leaving behind a _very_ peeved uncle.

"Confound my _bloody_ brother, sendin' his own _bloody_ son to _bloody_ interfere!" growled Óin, looking reminiscent of a rabid Warg. "He still can't _bloody_ trust us to _bloody_ well be alone to- _bloody_ -gether! Unbe- _BLOODY_ -lievable!"

Bifur laid a calming hand on his shoulder. " _Relax, my One. You mustn't stress over this._ "

"All I can say is, Bifur, you're lucky you don't have any nosy little brothers," the healer huffed, crossing his arms.

" _I suppose Bofur doesn't count, then_ ," the axe-embedded Dwarf signed thoughtfully before linking their arms together. " _Come on, Óin. We have five more minutes to ourselves before we can get back to the others._ "

Óin narrowed his eyes at him. "Why, where are you takin' me now?"

Bifur smiled, rubbing the other Dwarf's arm reassuringly. " _You're still not relaxed. I merely want to take you some place else to rest … and perhaps_ ," he added lowly, cupping the healer's chin, " _finish what we've started …_ "

Óin stared at him, before a smirk formed on his lips.

"Why is it," he said coquettishly, "that I have this feelin' that, wherever you're takin' me, whatever you have in mind for us, it will take us longer than five minutes?"

A pause.

"And that there might not even be a mistletoe involved?" he added huskily.

Bifur's smile widened. " _As long as you're with me, it doesn't matter how long we take._ "

His One laughed at this, and he happily let himself be led away once more to goodness knows where. He need not stress about anything, not while he had Bifur leading the way.

_Thank Mahal for him._

The baby kicked in agreement.

~*~*~*

"Gimli, where're your uncles?"

"They said they were comin' in five minutes, _Adad_."

"Well, how long ago did they say that?"

A pause.

"Ten minutes."

"ÓIN!" Glóin roared, nearly overturning his chair as he bounded out of the room in search of his truant brother and his husband, leaving behind loud chortles in his wake.

* * *

**Eggnog**

The consumption of eggnog was a Durin family tradition.

From the days of wealth to the years of poverty and to this very minute, it was a tradition that was staunchly upheld by the line of Durin every Yuletide. It was required that all members of this family in the same vicinity were to be present in the drinking of this treat, for they were to make a toast to the memories of their loved ones who were no longer with them physically yet were with them in spirit on this blessed Yule night.

Still, Balin could not help but chuckle when a grumpy-looking Glóin returned with Óin and Bifur in tow, the two late Dwarves looking flushed and not at all ashamed of themselves.

"Right then, let us proceed," declared Thorin, moving over to the side-table on which lay two punch bowls filled to the brim with a light yellow mixture. "The bowl on the left is for the adults, whilst the bowl on the right is for the children."

"Does that mean we can get drunk, too?" asked Grettir, earning himself a swat on the head and a hiss about the children's bowl being non-alcoholic.

Thorin continued, gesturing towards Balin and his One. "Let us thank Balin and Dori for preparing the eggnog for tonight. We trust that it will be delicious."

"Hear, hear!" the others agreed.

"It _looks_ delicious, too!" commented Bilbo, breathing in the smell of the brandy that emanated from the adults' bowl with an appreciative sigh. "My compliments to you, Balin and Dori."

Dori's face glowed in embarrassment; Balin took hold of his trembling hand and squeezed it, offering his One a reassuring smile.

"It's alright, Dori," he murmured under his breath. "They're goin' to like it."

The eldest Ri brother gave the other Dwarf a raddled look, which conveyed his nerves quite clearly.

"You don't know that," he whimpered worriedly. "The eggnog's a flop, I _know_ it is."

"It is _not_ a flop, love. It tasted perfectly fine when we tested it."

Dori shook his head, biting on his bottom lip.

"It's a flop," he said firmly before looking away.

Balin sighed from the pit of his stomach. Every year, a member of the line of Durin or a close friend was nominated to prepare the eggnog, which was considered an honour. Fíli and Kíli had insisted on preparing the treat last Yuletide, and from then on it was agreed that they should never do it again (Balin had somehow ended up in the bathroom as the Yule night wore on, sitting on the toilet with a frilly paper crown on his head, and he was found there snoozing the next morning).

This year, it was the white-haired Dwarf who was appointed to carry out this honourable task. And, because of their courtship, and out of want to impress their friends and his new extended family, Dori had appointed _himself_ to help his One in making the eggnog.

"You don't have to," Balin had told him the night before as they stood in the kitchen.

Dori blinked. "But I _must!_ After all, I want to make a good impression on everyone else. I don't want them to think me selfish for not helpin' you. You're my One, Balin, and I simply cannot … you know, _not_ help you!"

"I honestly don't see the need for you to make an impression on anybody," replied Balin, puzzled.

Indeed, the eldest Ri, what with his strength and prowess on the battlefield, his affable personality, his good manners and upright morals, and not least of all his good looks, was well-known. Their friends and family liked the silver-haired Dwarf well enough – he was practically part of the family, so what was the point in trying to impress them?

"I just want to help," said Dori, looking a little crushed. He twiddled his fingers as he murmured, "It's the first time I'm celebratin' Yule with so many people. I don't want to disappoint them."

"But love, you've done so much already," cried Balin, taking the other Dwarf's hands into his own. "You've bought the presents, you've hot-ironed our clothes for tomorrow, you've baked your desserts … are you not tired?"

Dori looked down at his boots. "Just a little bit," he answered in a small voice.

Then he looked up, his eyes aflame with determination.

"But I'm _goin'_ to make this eggnog, I swear on Mahal's holy name."

And make eggnog he did. Balin knew Dori to be a persistent, stubborn old thing when it came to food, and he never stopped when he got started on something. For the entire afternoon he had churned out trays of tartlets and cakes without pause for breath, save for a tea-break or two. Now the eldest Ri was busy preparing the alcoholic eggnog, whilst Balin had somehow been delegated to making the children's mixture.

The advisor did not mind in the slightest. It was exactly the same recipe, minus the alcohol. Separating the egg whites from the yolks was a tiresome process, and mixing sugar with these two things and then combining the mixtures was not entirely easy. However, it all went smoothly from that moment onwards when Balin poured in the cream and whipped the eggnog mixture until it was nearly stiff. He proceeded to pour the mixture into a large bowl, ready to serve.

Where the problem lay was that, by the time Balin was finished, Dori was _still_ separating the whites and yolks for his mixture. The recipe called for 12 large eggs, yet about 18 eggshells lay on the counter-top, and Dori – completely red in the face and silver strands of hair escaping from his braids – was cracking open his 19th egg.

"How many egg whites have you managed to get?" asked Balin, gesturing towards the small bowl containing the whites.

His One's cheeks puffed up before he answered.

"About six," he said, his face reddening even more.

The advisor raised an eyebrow. "Six? You're halfway, but you have to still beat the whites with the sugar, and then mix the sugar with the –"

"I _know_ that," Dori hissed, shakily dropping the egg white into the bowl.

"I know that you know that," the white-haired Dwarf said hurriedly. "I was just thinkin' that it's gettin' late, is all, and we ought to get a move on –"

"What, you're thinkin' that I'm slow or something?" his One growled, glaring at him.

"I said no such thing!" Balin cried, holding up his hands in a defensive manner. After a beat, he stepped forward, lowering his hands as he said, "Look, love, let me separate the whites. It's doin' you no good if you're high-strung. We'll have the eggnog completed in no time if we –"

"Oh no, Balin, I'm doin' just fine!" Dori cut him off, suddenly – and _very_ angrily – waving a spoon in his face ( _where the hell did that spoon come from?!_ ). "Seein' as you're done with your eggnog bowl, why don't you retire to bed early, hmm? You said it was gettin' late."

"But Dori, I _want_ to help you –!"

"Too many cooks spoil the broth, as the menfolk say," said Dori airily over his protests.

He gently yet firmly pushed Balin towards the door. "Do run along now, Balin. I'll be fine without the trauma of havin' someone watchin' me."

"Not watchin' you, _helpin_ ' you," his One tried once more, to no avail.

Dori smiled at him before pecking his cheek and saying, "Get some rest, my dear Balin. I _will_ not have you bein' overtired tomorrow."

"Dori –"

"Go on, be off with you, _g_ _hivashuh_ ," the silver-haired Dwarf said, patting the advisor's shoulder. "I'll join you in half an hour."

Balin opened his mouth to say another word, but the stern look on Dori's face did not warrant another argument.

So the white-haired Dwarf sighed and said, "Alright, love. See you in half an hour, then."

He opened the kitchen door and made his way to their bedroom, whilst Dori, smoothing his untidy braids tiredly, proceeded to crack open his 20th egg.

~*~*~*

Balin lay awake on his side in his bed for a whole two hours before he heard the bedroom door finally opening.

Loud, clumpy footsteps made its way towards the empty side of the bed, and the white-haired Dwarf felt the mattress dip as his One sat down with a long, drawn-out and obviously exhausted sigh. He could hear the unstrapping of boots and the grunts accompanying it. Balin expected Dori to get up again to undress, but he could not hide his surprise when the other Dwarf's weight collapsed onto the bed; his arms snaked away around the advisor's waist, pulling him close. Another exhausted sigh, close to Balin's ear, was emitted.

 _Goodness, he must be_ really _worn-out if he's not goin' to undress himself._

"Dori?" he whispered.

A sharp intake of breath, followed by an apologetic nuzzle.

"Sorry to have woken you, _ghivashuh_ ," Dori said softly, tightening his hold on his One. "I was just cleanin' up the kitchen."

"Is the eggnog done?" asked Balin.

Dori did not answer immediately, mindlessly stroking the other Dwarf's side for a full, silent minute. When he did answer, it was not in reply to the question.

"I think it flopped," he mumbled.

"Flopped? Whatever do you mean?"

"It flopped," Dori mumbled again, hiding his face in Balin's shoulder. "It just … _flopped_."

Certain that this mystifying statement was all he was going to get out of Dori, the advisor gave a sigh of his own and patted the silver-haired Dwarf's hands.

"We can taste 'em in the mornin', love," he whispered. "I'm sure they'll be delectable. Good night."

"G'night." Dori's words were muffled, but Balin could clearly hear his next statement coming through: "The eggnog is a flop."

~*~*~*

As everyone made their way to the serving bowls for a cup of eggnog, Balin firmly took hold of Dori's chin, forcing the eldest Ri to look at him.

"Trust me, love, I know that you did a fantastic job makin' the eggnog," he whispered to him, looking straight into his eyes. "You always put a lot of effort into your cookin' and bakin', and your dishes always turn out well, so don't you _dare_ think that you did not do your damn best. I can't bear to see you stressin' yourself out, especially on an occasion such as this."

Dori stared at him in silence after that little speech.

Balin returned the gaze, looking beseechingly at his One.

Finally, Dori's mouth transformed from a frown into a smile.

"You really think they'll like my eggnog?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Aye, love, that I do," the advisor replied, also smiling.

He pressed a chaste kiss to the silver-haired Dwarf's lips before continuing. "I don't doubt your amazin' bakin' abilities, and I see no reason for you to doubt yourself."

His One beamed, and Balin thought he looked simply beautiful and no longer tired-looking or nervous.

"Thank you, _ghivashuh_ ," Dori murmured, pulling the other Dwarf into a hug.

"Aww, so cute," chimed in Kíli in a gushing tone, appearing at the couple's side with two glasses of eggnog in his hands. "You two certainly put Ori and Dwalin to shame, and they're _always_ going at it in public!"

"Oh, hush up, laddie," said Balin with a laugh, playfully punching Kíli's arm.

"Thanks for bringin' us eggnog," said Dori, reaching out to grab a cup, but the dark-haired prince stepped back.

"These aren't for _you_ , they're for _me_ ," he declared.

"What, both of them?" cried Balin and Dori together, eyes widening.

"But of course," answered Kíli, as if the answer were obvious. "I had a sip of Fíli's eggnog when he wasn't looking, and it's absolutely _amazing_! I can't get enough of this stuff. Besides, Óin said I could have his cup – he's opting for the non-alcoholic eggnog for some reason, but who am I to question when I have two cups of heaven in my hands?"

Balin raised an eyebrow at his cousin's decision to drink the non-alcoholic option, but Dori stared at Kíli with wide, sparkling eyes.

"You … you think the eggnog is good?" he stammered.

Kíli nodded. "Definitely. 'Course, I've only had a sip, since we still need to the toast, but I think it's ruddy marvellous and – _oof!_ "

"Bless you, laddie!" Dori cried delightedly, having pulled the prince into a bone-crunching, one-armed hug. "That means so much to me and Balin, you have no idea!"

"Watch the drinks!" Kíli barked, though he smiled nonetheless at the affection of his second-cousin's One. The aforementioned second-cousin merely looked on, chuckling to himself at the sight of a beaming Dori awkwardly hugging it out with the prince.

_He always looks beautiful when he's happy._

_Clink-clink!_

Dori released Kíli from his grip, and the three Dwarves, as well their companions, turned towards Thorin as he tapped his eggnog cup with a spoon; Bilbo stood beside the Dwarf with a cup of his own.

"It is time for the toast," said Thorin, "but I decided that, instead of me, it should be our own Bilbo Baggins to lead us in the salute. After all, without his aid during the quest, we all would not be standing here in Erebor at this very moment, let alone this room. So if you please, Master Baggins."

Bilbo's cheeks reddened as cheers and whistles fell on his ears. Swallowing his nerves down, the Hobbit stepped forward and began.

"Well, I'm not one for speeches, so I shall keep this short and to the point," he said. "I would like to thank everyone for gathering here tonight on this blessed Yuletide evening. I make a toast to those who have departed this world for the next, yet are here in spirit in this very place – this _kingdom_."

He smiled at his audience. "Let it be known that Erebor has rightfully returned to the race of Dwarves, and I'm honoured to partake in this Yuletide celebration with those who fought for its freedom, especially the ones that I have gotten to know since they pulled me out of Bag End … the ones who gave me something more precious than a share of treasure."

Bilbo glanced out of the corner of his eye at Thorin, whose fine lips were curled upwardly and whose eyes were glittering like lapis lazuli.

Smiling to himself, Bilbo raised his eggnog-cup.

"To the line of Durin, the race of Dwarves, and to everyone who have long since passed. We drink this eggnog in memory of you. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" everyone chorused.

"Cheers!" said Balin and Dori, raising the eggnog to their lips …

… when a knock came at the door, making them pause.

"Come in!" called Thorin.

The door opened, and the tip of a pointed grey hat, followed by a bearded face, a grey-robed body and a burlap sack, entered. Gandalf looked at the Dwarves and the Hobbit with a smile.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he set down the sack. "Am I late for the eggnog?"

* * *

**Unwrapping Presents**

"Bloody typical of him to show up late."

A chuckle. "I thought you knew Gandalf better than that by now, Bilbo. Punctuality isn't his strong point."

A roll of the eyes, but also accompanied by a chuckle. "I suppose you're right, Thorin. I remember him coming late to the Old Took's summer solstice party one year. The solstice was nearly at its end by the time Gandaf showed up."

"I can imagine," remarked Thorin, shaking his head. "But the night is still young, and here we all are, getting some more gifts."

"I have more than enough gifts," Bilbo whispered, smiling as he fingered the hand-crafted black-gold choker around his neck. He let his other hand wander downwards, taking the Dwarf king's hand into his own. A white-gold band topped with a tanzanite adorned Thorin's right ring-finger, where it had been placed only a few minutes earlier after his stocking was emptied out.

"I couldn't askfor anything more," the Hobbit murmured as he watched the tanzanite glitter in the fire's light, resting his head against Thorin's shoulder.

The dark-haired Dwarf gazed warmly at him, squeezing his One's hand.

"When our courtship is formalised at the beginning of next month, you shall receive so much more than a simple choker," he replied, kissing the top of Bilbo's head.

"Hardly simple," countered Bilbo, grinning. "I bet that it took a few weeks in advance for your smiths to craft something gorgeous like this."

"Likewise with the ring," answered Thorin appreciatively. "I must say, Nidhi did a fine job. I recognise her handiwork anywhere."

The Hobbit laughed. "That's why I went to Glóin's wife to have it made in the first place."

Thorin smiled at him, kissing him again. "I have this ring, I have my family and friends, I have my home back – and I have _you_ , Bilbo Baggins. What does Gandalf have for _us_ , I wonder?"

Bilbo shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly have no idea. His being here – albeit a little late – is but a nice gift in itself."

The couple turned their attention to the Wizard in question, who – after helping himself to eggnog – was handing out colourful packages from the sack to the Company and the children. Bombur's brood, excited to bits at another opportunity of receiving more presents, ripped open their presents and were delighted with their soft toy bears, even more so when the bears emitted realistic roars. They chased each other around with the bears, nearly knocking the adults off their feet.

Dís complimented Grete on her new slipper boots, Grete marvelled at Nidhi's gilded jewellery-box, and Nidhi wholeheartedly approved of Dís's sapphire earrings. Meanwhile, Bombur was very pleased with his cutlery set ("Now I don't have to use my fingers anymore!") and Glóin was quite taken with his leather pouch.

"Now I can protect my coins _and_ my lad's new hair-clips," he declared, glancing at Nori with a knowing look.

"Leave it out, sweetheart," the thief retorted, running an admiring gaze over his bejewelled dagger. "I got sumfink far more interestin' than a bloody coin and a hair accessory."

Bofur and Bifur were especially impressed with their gifts. The hat-wearing Dwarf immediately hooked his tobacco-pouch to his belt, whilst his cousin admired his carving knife from different angles. Óin looked chuffed with his mittens, and he chuckled when he saw the ball of wool and the knitting needles ("I can't even knit!"). Bilbo wondered what it meant, but he realised, as Óin rubbed his stomach, that they will hear the good news soon enough ( _I'm surprised I didn't notice before_ ).

When Dwalin saw the drinking mug, he immediately went to the eggnog bowl and scooped up a generous amount. Ori was the picture of happiness when he tested his new quill, writing his name on the front page of the journal that Gandalf gave him. Balin used his magnifying glass to read the text, and Dori looked like he had tears in his eyes as he took in the details of the hairbrush, from its bone-handle to the inlaid fluorite.

"Pray that you don't lose this brush, too," Gandalf told him with a wink.

Fíli and Kíli were more delighted than the kids when they saw the pipes lying in their boxes. However, upon digging around in the boxes, they shared a most conspiratorial smile, which aroused Dís's curiosity.

"Did you get something else as well?" she asked them.

"No, _Amad_ ," her sons answered, though their madly-twinkling eyes did little to extinguish her nerves.

Chortling to himself, Gandalf turned to Bilbo and Thorin.

"Don't think that I haven't forgotten about you two," he said, pulling out two small presents, one wrapped in red paper and the other in dark-green.

"Really, Gandalf, you shouldn't have," said Bilbo with a smile as the Wizard passed him his present. "So green – like the Shire!"

Thorin accepted his ruby-red-wrapped present with a bow. "Indeed, Gandalf, you needn't have gone out of your way to buy us gifts."

"Oh, but I wanted to," replied Gandalf, taking a generous sip of his eggnog. "Besides, I got you both something small. When I saw them, I immediately thought of you two!"

"That's so sweet, and so thoughtful!" gushed the Hobbit before turning to his One. "Let's open them together!"

Thorin could not help but look amused at Bilbo's enthusiasm. "Now?"

"Of course, now," Bilbo replied fervently. "Truth be told, I want to see what Gandalf got us."

"Very well, my One," said the dark-haired Dwarf, pecking his cheek. "Let us proceed."

Slowly and carefully, the couple began to unwrap their presents. Their companions watched as they did so, waiting in anticipation to see what the Wizard had got them.

When the wrapping paper was removed, two cream-white boxes the size of a Dwarf's hand were revealed.

"Ooh, pretty boxes!" said Bala, clapping her hands in delight.

"I wonder what could be inside them," murmured Balin.

"Go on then, you toss-pots, open them already!" exclaimed Óin impatiently.

Bilbo and Thorin complied, undoing the ribbons that were tied around the boxes. And then, without further ado, they lifted the lids and peered inside. Their mouths dropped open in surprise.

Everyone, minus Gandalf, leaned forward.

"Well, brother, what is it?" Dís inquired.

"It's a _bracelet_ ," gasped Thorin, his eyes wide.

"I also have a bracelet!" Bilbo cried, his eyes wide, too. Gently, he lifted up the bracelet from the box for everyone to see.

"Wow!" said Kíli.

"That's stunnin'!" cried Dori.

"Beautiful!" gushed Ori.

And it was. To one's eyes, it looked like a simple, understated silver chain with a plain, bead-like ornament hanging off of it. But on closer inspection, one would be able to see and appreciate the fine details and beauty of the piece. The sterling silver links were plated with rhodium, and the ornament that formed the central round piece was, in actual fact, an encrusted diamond with a smooth finish. A little clip hung off the diamond.

Thorin stared. "I have the exact same bracelet in _my_ box, too," he stated, lifting a twin copy of the bracelet from his box.

Their companions marvelled at the two luxurious pieces of jewellery.

"You certainly have an eye for beauty, Gandalf," remarked Dís, sounding impressed. "What a fantastic choice for a gift!"

The Wizard chuckled. "Think so? Well, wait 'til you see what happens when you put them on. Thorin, Bilbo, do try them on. On your right wrist and on the left wrist, respectively, if you please."

The Hobbit and the Dwarf stared at him.

"The right wrist? The left wrist?" they questioned, raising their eyebrows. "Why the different wrist positions?"

"Just do as I say, you two," Gandalf replied impatiently. "Now _do_ hurry it up. Right wrist, Thorin, and left wrist, Bilbo."

Puzzled immensely at the command, Bilbo and Thorin did as they were told. They put the bracelets on – one on the right wrist, the other on the left – and they actually looked good. The pieces fit well, neither loose nor chafing their skin. The sterling silver links were polished to perfection and shone bright like starlight.

"Excellent," said Gandalf approvingly. "Now, watch this."

He reached out towards Thorin's bracelet, taking the diamond into his hand. Then, with his other hand, he took hold of Bilbo's diamond. Carefully, he opened the clips hanging off the stones and brought the gems together …

_Click!_

"And _voilà_ , interlocking bracelets!" proclaimed Gandalf, stepping back.

The diamonds were clipped together.

In short, the bracelets – and therefore Bilbo and Thorin – were joined together at the wrist. Indeed, whenever the Hobbit or the Dwarf moved their wrist, the other wrist was pulled along for the ride.

"What do you think?" the Wizard asked them.

Bilbo gaped at him.

"Gandalf," he started, his voice low, "you did _not_ just buy us a pair of _handcuffs_."

"Handcuffs, Bilbo? A ridiculous notion, dear fellow. They're interlocking bracelets."

"That's merely a fancy term for glorified handcuffs," the Hobbit barked, shaking his – and Thorin's – bejewelled wrist at Gandalf. " _This_ is a pair of glorified handcuffs, and you had the gall to buy them for us?!"

"To be fair, Bilbo," cut in Thorin, his cheeks rosy as he said in a low voice, "I wouldn't mind being handcuffed to you."

Everyone roared at that, and Gandalf chortled lightly.

Bilbo turned his gaping glare to his One.

"Seriously, you're _flirting_ with me _now_ when we're handcuffed together in front of our _friends_?!" he hissed under his breath.

Thorin shrugged.

"Wouldn't be the first time that we've found ourselves in a compromising position in front of them," he said.

"Look on the bright side, Bilbo," said Gandalf cheerfully. "You can be assured that Thorin will never get lost ever again with you at his side all the time."

And everyone died again when the Hobbit and the Dwarf began to chase and scream obscenities at the Wizard in that little room, and anyone who happened to pass by and hear the ruckus would wonder what in Mahal's name was going on this blessed day.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The wrapping paper had been swept up; the Yule tree looked dull in the dim light of the hall torches; the gingerbread men were all eaten up; the stockings that hung on the mantelpiece were gone; the mistletoe sprig had been removed; the eggnog bowls were emptied out …

… and everyone was gone.

The children, their parents, the Dwarves and the Wizard had long left for home.

All was quiet.

But not _too_ quiet, as Bilbo and Thorin were still in the chambers, sitting closely together on the settee and watching the crackling fire burn before them. Their bracelets, no longer joined together, adorned their wrists like dripping diamonds.

"What a night," murmured Bilbo quietly. "What a feast that we had."

"And what a Yuletide celebration it has been," added Thorin softly, his ice-blue eyes struggling to stay open. "Think that it went well?"

"I rather think that it went splendidly," Bilbo said, yawning. "Better than I expected, considering that it's Erebor's first Yuletide in years. I half-expected it to be messy, but it actually turned out well."

"It did, didn't it?" Thorin chuckled, running a hand through his One's copper curls. "It only got messy near the end when my nephews decided to light a firecracker in their inebriated states. My sister was _not_ impressed."

"Luckily Gandalf sneaked away before Dís could get her hands on him," remarked Bilbo, smirking.

He leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Yes, this celebration was a huge success," he said. "So traditional … so lovely to have shared this day with you and everyone else … I'll never forget this day for as long as I live."

The dark-haired Dwarf smiled at him, lightly kissing his cheek. "Neither will I, Bilbo. Though I can't say the same for everyone else. By my beard, Dori's eggnog was bloody powerful. I bet everyone will have headaches tomorrow morning and barely remember what nonsense they got up to. Bofur will never understand why his hat smells so funny, though he'll be less than pleased when he finds out what Gimli, Kíli and Ori did in it."

"We ought to do it again next year," mumbled the Hobbit, feeling the oncoming sleep taking hold.

"Perhaps."

"Yes, perhaps," Bilbo said through his yawn. "Maybe sing Yuletide songs, or build ice sculptures, or –"

"We''ll see, my One," Thorin said gently, wrapping his arms around the smaller creature as sleep began to claim them both. "For now, it is over. Go to sleep."

"Merry Yuletide, Thorin."

"Merry Yuletide, Bilbo. Until next year."

"Yes, until next year."

The sounds of contented snores followed soon after.

**Author's Note:**

> Mûlukh furkhuhaz - Moon of my life.  
> Mim kidhuzur upndar - My little lion.  
> Amad - Mother.  
> Zu kiduzhu - You're so cute.  
> Adad - Father.  
> Ghivashuh - Treasured one.
> 
> The moral of the story: Gandalf is a troll. XD That's basically what I learnt since joining the fandom this year.
> 
> This story is dedicated to so many people, especially my readers who have supported me all the way this year. They've tolerated my silliness and the overdue updates, and I'm forever grateful to them for reading my nonsense. I have mind a to do something like this every year, but, like Thorin says, "Perhaps ... we'll see." ;) I have yet to see the third movie, but I know it's sad, so I'm not mentally prepared for it, buuuuut this story kinda calmed me down. Besides, the Dwarves needed more love, so I've been told, and y'all know me, everyone needs a day in the spotlight. :D
> 
> Enjoy what's left of 2014, my ducklings! Be safe on New Year's Eve! Hope you all have picked your resolutions *nudge-nudge, wink-wink*.
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are welcome! Also let me know which tradition/section was your fave - my writing style kinda differed in each one.
> 
> *~AI07~* :)


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